The Devil's Daughter
by molly.mint
Summary: A story about four friends, who become apart of the Devil's entertainment. Follow Callum, Scout, Max and Lily as they have to fight to the death - kill or be killed whilst trying to stay together. But each of the friends have secrets buried deep down inside. Who is the Devil's Daughter? Who will escape? Who will be left behind...?
1. Chapter 1 The Storms

Broken

Chapter One

The Storms

He wept. Tear marks glistening when lightning struck. The clouds wept tears of their own, but made the ground mud like and hard to run on. Matters of grass were clotted between his bare toes. He had already twisted both ankles, but still he ran. His throat burned for water. Never before had he experienced such pain or desire for water. He wouldn't stop, but soon he might be forced to by his own body. It was a long way for a eleven year old to run.

He knew where'd she'd be. Her favourite beach. A twenty minute walk if you knew the shortcuts, but finding his way in the pitch black of a winter's night. Especially in a storm, when you can barely take in your surroundings during the sudden bursts of light forking from the sky. Again he stumbled, but still he heaved himself on. _This pain is nothing! _He told himself. _Nothing compared to the trouble she might be in. _She's being slammed against rocks, yanked under water, and being thieved of air. Every limb is powerless against the wrath of the sea. This thought made him more determined to reach her in time. But he was tiring faster than the rain fell. He couldn't go on.

A rock sliced his foot. He fell. Too numb to feel any serious pain, and clutching his pulsing foot, which was now flowing clear warm blood over his frozen toes, he started gagging for air. His chest rising and falling quicker with every breath; he could barely breathe. _Help me_, he screamed inside his head, since he didn't even have the energy to even mouth these simple words. He would never reach the beach. He had always known, but had never let the thought get to him, until now.

He slumped onto his side, defeated

Drenched in a horrible mixture of blood, sweat, mud and rain, he lay still letting the rain smother him, the thunder mock him, the lightning scare him and the wind still his screams. And then finally, he drained himself of hope, and let despair drag him into a coma like sleep.

…

Warmth tickled his face. His eyes flickered open immediately. Last night swamped his thoughts. His clothes were caked in dry blood and mud, his limps stiff from sleeping on the rough ground, and his lips cracked and throat peeling from lack of hydration. He rubbed his burning eyes, to try focusing them, they blurred for a moment, and then everything cleared. He was in a field of poppies, dandelions and pink daisies, all flopping about in the gentle breeze. It was hard to think that last night the air had been treacherous, and hard to inhale, but was now drifting into his nostrils and cooling his hurting throat. Everything looked so fresh and calm after the storm. The sort sunlight, glistening grass and pure skies, all seemed relaxed. Even the waves rolling out at sea looked smoother, after frolicking about in the storm, were now tired and wanted to sleep on the rhythmic sea.

_The sea!_ He thought. He screwed up his face and tugged at his hair. He had been right next to the beach when he'd fallen, but had been blinded by the night to realise he was right next to what he longed for! He _hated_ himself right now. The only thing that made him want to continue to the beach was the thought _she_ may still be there – alive.

His heart ached as he stood up. Black shadows fogged his vision, and his head spun. He had stood up too quickly. Stumbling backwards, at the sudden loss of balance, he realised another problem: his foot. Pain had shot up his leg when he'd put weight on it, and now tears prickled at his eyes. Of course though, they wouldn't fall though, since he had no water left to cry. He looked down at his foot, and recoiled. It was covered in muddy blood, swollen, oozing with pus, and on the verge of turning blue.

He croaked. He was trying to utter a single word - a name. The hope he had drained himself of last night, returned at the thought of her name. He _would_ continue. Every step would be a challenge, and he would loathe himself even more if he winced at the pain. But he had to keep going. Where the land ended to give way to the frisky power of the sea, was only a few more steps, and then he would be at the beach. Staggering forward, in a rhythmic limb, he reached the cliff. It sloped gentle down. Normally this would be a joyful task for him, but with his limps objecting, and his foot throbbing, he struggled. He slipped, fell and stumbled from rock to rock, ledge to ledge, until he reached the warm soft sand.

The tide was far up but going out, so the beach was small and his search quick. He instantly saw the bloody body. Completely forgetting about the pain in his foot, he focused on the longing in his heart as he started an uneven run towards the lifeless looking girl. "Scout!" He cried out. She didn't respond to her name. "Scout!" he now screamed, and quickened his pace. _No, no, no, no!_ He thought as he reached and kneeled next to the body. Grabbing her small shoulders, he shock her gently. "Scout" He yelled, despite it hurt his throat. Over and over again, he screamed, shaking her harder now.

She had cuts all over her; at least they were clean though. She was completely naked, with the whole of her right side a horrible black from bruising. His thoughts were clearly reality. She had been out at sea during a storm. The sea had robbed her completely.

Letting go of her and he rested his forehead on her chest, crying, even though he had thought it impossible. "Scout." He whispered now, because he knew that if she could hear him, she would have replied. There had been no need to shout. No need to run so far. Or to cut his foot, hurt his throat. Or to sleep in a field, let alone bother hoping about anything. She had hurt him in every way possible by just lying there, not moving. And now he had every right to hate her for it.

He screamed and cursed at her, kicking sand on her and pounding the ground next to her. He still had little respect left not to actually touch her body again, but let her go in peace. He gulped for air, between sobs. His heart was close to exploding. It felt as if someone had grabbed hold of his heart and was now destroying it. But he still hated her. He couldn't even bear looking at her anymore. He turned and ran to the other end of the beach. He started to beat the ground again. He couldn't think straight. His thoughts clouded with hatred. It felt as if he had lost everything, including his mind.

All of a sudden he noticed a strange red splodge on the sand, and then another appeared right next to it. He then realized it was all over the back of his. He sat there for a while watching the little grains of sand being slowly drowned by redness. Finally he remembered what it was, the red liquid was blood -his own blood in fact ,from where he had been hitting the ground so hard the rough sand had torn and grinded away the skin on his knuckles. Common sense abruptly returned to him, along with a tingling pain on his knuckles, but he felt strangely calmer, but still his mind was fogged up. He decided to wash it to try preventing infection like his foot.

He crawled towards the water, and waded in deep enough to submerge his hand and wrist completely. The salt stung, but felt good at the same time, and he watched as the water around him turned a murky red as the mud and blood washed off from his clothes. He watched in awe, but then the misty redness was dragged away by a wave. _Come back_, he thought stupidly, as he stood up and slashed towards the floating red patch, but his splashes had caused it to spread out into nothing. "Stupid water, stealing my blood." He muttered, but then jumped at the sound of his own voice. He had forgotten he could speak. _You idiot_, he thought, as he realized how stupid he'd just been. He took his frustration out on the waves. He kicked a couple, but more came. He waded out further so he could hit them, but still they came, one after the other, like an army of soldiers charging forwards. Nothing could stop them. They were a never ending surge. This annoyed him even more. Thrusting out with his hands, he beat, shoved and thrashed at the waves. "Go away!" He growled. But still they came back. Somehow this reminded him of something.

A sudden rush of tears wielded up to his eyes again. He turned to face the body he had guiltily forgotten about, as his senses returned. "I wish you'd come back."

Nothing.

Ashamed of himself for losing his temper, he wondered over to the body, and sat down next to it, taking hold of one of her cold scabbed hands. "I shouldn't have screamed at you, or said those things. You're my best friend, and I should always treat you like one. I'm sorry. Just please come back."

Gazing into the pale, though beautiful face that stayed motionless, he sobbed silently. Although her skin was white as ash, her lips were still blood red. Her tangled and sand matted dark her lay in wet clumps over what use to be a pair of blazing grey eyes, but were now sealed shut, and her eyelashes glued together with salt from the sea. He longed for those eyes to flash open, with that cheeky glint in them, along with her lips smiling, and her witty remarks. But her and her words were no longer there. He heaved himself away from his best friend's body, and walked away towards where he had pounded the sand. He stood silently, thinking about anything that would come to mind.

His father would probably be looking for both of them right now, was the first thought. Guilt rose to his chest. _Sorry Dad_, he thought. Dad had cared for him when Mother had died from cancer when he was just three. He still had a few memories of her, but most were from pictures. His dad though was always there, loving, fair, and very generous. The boy felt more guilt rise. His father was so good to him, and how was he repaying him? By running off in the middle of the night.

But he had had to run off. The girl who now lay motionless in her favourite place had been everything to him. He looked back across the beach, and remembered the day he'd first met her.

_Five years ago._

_The rain fell hard and heavy, drilling into the young boys back. Usually he would have the small protection from his school bag, but that was slung over his father's shoulder. He wanted to but didn't ask for it back, because he knew his father thought he was doing his son a kindness, by relieving him of the weight, so he could walk faster through this dreary weather. He didn't want to hurt his father's feelings. The wind howled, and bite at his ears, which were red with cold, he pulled his coat collar up higher. Seeing this motion, his father took off his scarf and wrapped it around his son, covering his ears. The boy smiled up gratefully at his father, who attempted a grim smile back. _

_They had reached the Church, which meant they were over half way home from school. They used the graveyard as a shorter and safer route since it avoided the road of swerving horse and carts. The father opened the graveyards rusty black gate, which normally let out a screeching sound because of the lack of oiling, but today the wind engulfed that sound. _

_The boy splashed through the puddle, which was next to the gate, drenching both his and his father's trousers. Realizing what he'd just done the boy looked up at his father, ready to apologize. His father looked down at him; shock his head, but walk past without a word, ruffling his son's hair on the way. The boy followed at a clumsy run, but abruptly stopped. He was being watched. The sky, church and gravestones where all a dull grey, and looked pitiful and plain. So when the boy looked around, it was easy to spot the flash of drenched white dress, next to a rather new looking gravestone. He wondered over to it, remotely hearing his father's protests over the icy wind. The dress belonged to a very small and young girl. She was crying silent tears, while watching the boy with fear in her eyes. She scurried backwards against the gravestone, clutching its sides with small dainty fingers. The boy realized it was he who was scarring her, and backed away. "Sorry, I didn't want to scare you, but are you alone? Because it's raining and cold, and you parents will be worried." He murmured quietly, trying to sound as kind as he could. No reply. Confused, the boy took a step closer, and was about to repeat himself in case she hadn't heard, but she let out a scream, and hid behind her hands. "Oh! I'm sorry; I promise I won't hurt you! I want to try help you." He said apologetically. The girl peeped through her hands, but stared shaking with cold. "Here," the boy said, offering her his father's scarf, she took it cautiously, but didn't put it on. Instead she just looked at it, confused. Realizing her confusion, he came and sat next to her, and wrapped the scarf around her neck and shoulders, then put his arm around her. She flinched at every move, but never took her eyes off of the boy._

_At this stage his father had come to investigate. Seeing the freezing girl, his face of annoyance and doubt, was instantly replaced with concern. He immediately took of his outer coat and wrapped it around her, ignoring her frightened squirms and wails. He scoped her up and started the way home and a quick pace, with the boy on tow. Still she screamed, but then caught the boy's eye, and saw how calm he was, and relaxed slightly. _

_Once they reached the pub, that his father owned, his father sat the girl in an armchair by the fire, stripped her of her soaking dress, dried her and the wrapped her in blankets. He then went off to make them all warm drinks. He did all this in silence, so the only noises were the girl's occasional cry of fright and the crackle off spitting sparks. When his father had left the room, the boy dragged a chair from one of restaurant tables and placed it opposite the shivering girl. He climbed on it and sat cross legged, smiling at her. Slowly, the girl raised the corners of her mouth, a smile. "What's your name?" The boy asked politely. He sat patiently waiting for a response. He waited a while, since the girl was struggling to find her voice, and she could barely keep her eyes open. He decided to tell her his name, despite the lack of question. "I'm Callum." The girl didn't stir. The boy was about to give up on an answer, when he heard:_

"_Hello, Callum."_

_She gulped._

"_I'm Scout."_

_The boy smiled again. To him it was a funny name, and a boy's name if anything. But he knew it would be rude to say so, so he simple asked her a question frequently asked by children his age. "Hello, Scout. Would you be my friend, please?" He was unsure of the answer, since it was an awkward question to ask, since they knew very little about one another, and she was naked under the blankets, but he hoped she would reply. The girl nodded her head, and gave another weak smile, then drifted into a comforted sleep. _

_He sat and watched her. Examining her long silky brown hair, that was slowly drying in the heat, the dancing shadows under her eyes of her long eyelashes caused by the firelight; he noticed that when her teeth chattered her two front teeth were missing. _I wonder how much she got from the tooth fairy, _Callum wondered. He also saw scars and burns on her pale legs, but didn't take much notice of them; he himself had plenty of bruises from climbing the cliffs with his father, and playing with his friends at school. _

_The boy's father returned, precariously carrying three cups of steaming liquid, which he place on one of the restaurant tables. He passed one to Callum, and sipping on his own, muttered that when he finished his drink, to go find Paula (one of the waitresses, who normally took care of Callum), to help him with his homework, ask for his dinner, and then go up to bed and brush his teeth. Callum asked what was going to happen to Scout, and then had to explain to his father that that was her name, and that they had decided to be friends. His father smiled fondly of his son, then drowning his mug, said she would sleep for as long as she wanted, but in the morning, he would ask about and have a go at trying to find her parents. _

_He never did find her parents._

_Apparently Scout had no idea who her parents were, let alone how she had ended up in the church's graveyard. She only remembered falling. The boy's father had thought she meant that she had fallen, possibly hit her head and was now suffering a bad concussion. However, he found no bruise on her head, and after days of waiting, she still didn't remember. But what came to a shock to Callum's father the most, was she remembered her name, but didn't know her own age, let alone what age was. The decided she was about Callum's age, five, and marked her birthday as the day they'd found her, February 13__th__. _

_Two years past and slowly Scout settled into Callum's way of life. Although she join school at first, but she was always there to pick Callum up or drop him off at school, which she soon started doing without the aid of Jacob, Callum's dad, who she always referred to as Mr Thorton. _

_Meanwhile, Callum and Scout had become very close. They would eat meals together, she would have goes at attempting his homework, they'd go on long walks to the beach, and "help out" at the pub. Her two front teeth grew, and she lost the others, and so did Callum. The burns and bruises faded on her legs as well, and were soon forgotten about. And soon enough, Scout started missing Callum so much during the week; she asked if she could join school. Since she'd missed two whole years already, she joined one year below Callum, but that didn't stop them from staying best friends, or meeting up every lunch and break. _

_At first everyone thought they were brother and sister, which they certainly felt like. But as they grew older, and they looked nothing alike, people started asking. At first Callum and Scout didn't know how to reply, so after a day of interrogation, from multiple people, they asked Paula, who replied that they could say Scout was adopted. So that's how they explained from then on. But that didn't go down too well. Bullies saw it as an opportunity to mock her for having no parents. Scout didn't take the slightest of notice at first and didn't care what they said, but then it got out of hand, when they stared getting physical, by shoving her over. Callum wouldn't have it, and started defending her, and got into several fights, but the teachers of the school pitied Scout, and saw Callum as a perfect student and loyal friend, so he always got off easily. Soon the bullies realised they weren't gaining anything but more detentions and moody parents, so lay off. All except one. _

Tony.


	2. Chapter 2 Safe

Chapter 2

Safe

She wept. Tear marks staining her pretty face, but were soon dried up by the whipping wind that sliced her at her cheeks. She ran. She didn't think she'd run so fast before. It felt good. She was driven by hatred. She felt so free! But still she wept, since she knew she would never be free. Ripping off her tie and skirt, she threw them into the mercy of the wind. Still running, she unbuttoned her shirt, trying to slide the button through each of the fiddly holes. But her finger were wet and slippery from the light rain, that trickled down her face and made her hair cling to her neck, making the task impossible, so like her skirt, she ripped it off.

The cold wind welcomed her body, twirling and twisting itself around her, cooling her hot flushed face. Her anger had weakened slightly due to this soothing sensation, but still her anger burned inside her - strong and hot.

Her throat was parched and her lips swollen and raw from where she'd bitten off the dry skin. She didn't care, it would grow back. Nor did she care that mud was clumped under her toe nails, and splattered up her legs. Or that her hair was an untameable mess, wild – just like her. She didn't care that people at school called her an alien because she had no true parents, or a suck up because the teachers doped upon her fake innocent girl charm. She loved it in fact, because she knew that they were jealous because they didn't have the freedoms of doing what they liked, _they _were told what to do. They were jealous because she could be as horrible as she liked to people and get away with it, and they knew that she knew they couldn't win. But most of, all the girls at school loathed her because she could make any boy like her. She loved toying with people, she felt powerful, merciless and unstoppable!

The only thing was; someone had discovered her only weakness. And they loved using it against her. She couldn't bare it! They watched her squirm and beg. This person knew her one fear. It was such a simple thing, that many overlook, although deep down, they all treasure it. Something no one can in any way possible live without.

And that's your life.

Whenever someone threatens to take her life, she dies a little inside. It's _her _life, not theirs! She's in control of it, not them! They can't take away something she'd earned. Can they?

She had reached the beach. She was still crying. _Stop it! _She screamed at herself. This was her life, so she needed to get control of herself, or anyone could control her!

She stared down into the dark murky depths below her. A glint of gold shimmered on the icy water – the last of the sun's rays dancing on the cold surface. It reflected golden shaped across the grey ocean: she watched as the shapes rippled and glittered for a while. The wind picked up, it whispered dull lifeless words into her ears, and played with her sopping wet hair. Slinking behind a thundercloud the sun's dim warmth disappeared. It was winter, and dark comes early, so she watched the sunset start, twiddling her hair between her finger and thumb. The sun cast a pale gold across the sky, making cloud's edges looked like burnt paper.

She wondered down the cliff face, leaping carefully from rock to rock, following the trail she always used. The tide was high and still coming in, so she didn't have to go far at all to reach the water. The gentle waves licked the tips of her toes. She smiled. _You're safe. _No one could hurt her. There was no one to threaten her with knives, and say he would poison her. Not that they would be able to, when he best friend was around. He would always barricade her from threats and curses. Not that she needed or wanted him to, but in her eyes, she owed him her life, so she let him do what he liked.

Thunder rumbled somewhere above her, but this didn't stop her from doing what she always did when she needs to relax. She waded in until she was waist high in what felt like ice. She shivered, and smiled at the perplexing sensation. She closed her eyes and smiled. Bending her knees and letting the water take her wait, she gently fell backward, submerging her head in coldness, inch by inch, chilling her brain until she couldn't bear the strange pain anymore, so burst upwards, letting out a squeal, took a quick gulp of air before dunking herself under all together.

Sharpness built itself in her chest; she had winded herself with the freezing water. She propelled herself upwards, and started gagging for air. When she'd recovered, she lay on her back, closed her eyes, and drifted, letting her troubles float away across the waves, possibly over oceans and finding someone else to distress. She smiled at the thought of someone trying to cope with her fear. They wouldn't manage. You had to be strong minded to keep yourself upright when all the time, you're being weighted down by this fear so heavy, it could crush you. But she was strong enough to cope. The weight was nothing she couldn't manage, she'd lived through worse. _Much_ worse.

So she thought.

…

_CRACK!_ Her eyes opened in an instant to see a fork of lightning shine and disappear. Everything had changed character while she had rested, bobbing in the now ferocious current. The sky was inky black, the clouds huge and full of dangerous energy. And the beach – she couldn't see the beach! She lashed out, in the sudden frenzy of the thought that she was quite simply doomed. _Calm down! Calm down, you idiot!_ She thought desperately, despite she didn't even sound calm inside her own head. Her thoughts rushing and her emotions quelling. She couldn't think straight. She couldn't see, unless everything was murky black, in which case she could see just fine, but that wasn't helping! She couldn't even here her own rasping breath over the wind. _The wind!_ The thought suddenly occurred to her. _The sea will be pulled in whatever way the wind pulls it, so swim into the wind! The tide is also going out, so will be pulling you away from the shore, so swim against the tide as well! _She had her plan, or more her theories, that contradicted each other, but she was too busy trying to keep control of her limbs to care, let alone notice.

She was determined to get out of this alive. She wouldn't lose what was most precious to her! She was swimming now, but she didn't even know if she was moving. Each stroke was a struggle; she slapped her arm out in front of her, only to have it pulled back by the current. Her legs were flopping around underwater, not kicking. Harder and harder she pulled, each stroke feeling as useless as the one before. The tide had grabbed her ankles and was drawing her backwards, laughing at her through the wind. Making her feel weak. It was stealing away every breath of air she tried to inhale, and replacing it with salt, that poisoned her lungs. Her eyes were stinging from the salt. She couldn't tell if she was crying or not because of the waves' spray. _Don't cry, you fool. You're in control, remember?! _Who was she kidding? Why'd it matter if she cried, no one was here to see or mock her, except the wind and the waves. She might as well give in. They were clearly winning.

Suddenly a colossal wave started building up around her, and she felt herself being lifted up. _She was riding a wave! _ It was taking her back to shore! The wave speed up and left her behind, but another one followed, edging her further and further. Now all she needed to focus on was keeping her head above the water, but despite with the help of the waves, she was tired, and her limbs stiff with cold. The chills had already worn out her muscles, and were now creeping into her bones, eroding them away, slowly gnawing at them. The pain was agonising and long. It would never end she thought. It did though – but was replaced with something much worse.

In her terror, she had forgotten that because of high tide, the beach would be engulfed by water. This meant that despite the waves were taking her towards land; there was something in its way. And that was cliffs.

She saw them before she felt them. Rocks rearing up towards the heavens, solid and cruel, with no room for mercy – that's what the cliffs felt like. The wave she was on top of rose and broke, pulling her under into a black cold world of pain. Her body was slammed against the cliff, a rock edge catching the top of her thigh and ripping the skin down to the knee cap. She was spun around and around under water, but finally broke to the surface for air. The next wave caught her with her back facing the cliff, but wasn't as strong as the previous one, so only her spin caught the stone and was yanked down, tearing her bra, and scraping her skin. The sea sucked here back, getting ready to throw her against the cliff again, she had only a second to gulp for air before the sea threw her head on into the rock. Using what emotions she had left, and charging them into strength, she flung her arms over her head, at a pathetic attempt to protect herself from the wrath of the rock…

It didn't come; instead her knees and shins were scraped as she was lunched onto a rock. The first and last chance she would have to save herself. Realizing this, her hands started scrambling around, looking for any kind of grip. _Nothing! _The wave was retreating, and it was taking her with it, her bare stomach and chest were dragged along the rock, she was being pulled back into hell. She could see the devil welcoming her with open arms. "No!" She screamed. A sudden burst of frantic energy flooded through her. "I'm not going to hell! Not again!" She yelled, as she caught the edge of the rock with her fingertips. She was clinging on so hard, the skin on the ends on her finger were being shredded off. The energy was fading quicker than it had arrived, and so in a mere second, before the next wave took her as prey, she hauled her leg onto the rock and pulled herself up, and then scrambled to the cliff face, her back pinned against it. After the next wave, she would start her climb out of reach, but right now she had to find finger holds. Her hand searching up and down, side to side for holds. She couldn't find any by feeling, but she daren't take her eyes off the wave about to drag her to her doom. She found one! The wave was level with her and charging forward. The kept searching for a second. The wave was smashing against the rock in front of her. She found a second and held tight. The waved poured itself over her body, and started sucking her back into the sea. One hand slipped off the rock, so she twisted onto her front and shoved her hand into the hold next her other hand…

…there wasn't enough room. Her hands let go, too weak from the burning pain in her joints. She closed her eyes, giving into the magnetic force between her eyelids. She let go of all hope, giving in to nothingness. _Sorry, Callum. At least I'm floating and not drowning. _Tiredness was clearly messing with her brain, or maybe she was in too much pain to realize that she had already drowned?

…

The salty water had dried hard onto her face, and at first it was hard to breathe, because the salt had crystalized in her nostrils. Her legs were solid stiff in a strange position. One of them was numb, but the other she could feel because of the searing pain on her thigh that felt like someone was writing on her using needles. She tried sighing but her chest and ribs felt like they were under the weight of thousands, and all felt broken and torn. Her head was about to explode, and she didn't dare open her eyes to the light, because she knew it would sting and send stabbing pains to her eyes and brain. At least her hair was covering her eyes, protecting them slightly.

The only body part that felt at all warm, was her right hand, but she didn't have the faintest idea why. The rest could easily be cut up and sold as ice. Excluding her throat, this was fall of acid. She could feel the vomit washing about, and she couldn't swallow it down, since she had no saliva inside her whatsoever. So she let it serge up her throat, and gush out her mouth. At least she was on her side, or she would have choked.

She was too busy mulling over what a terrible state her body was in, to even realize that, _she was alive! _ The sea hadn't taken her life! But dumped her on the sand at the feet of the cliffs the instant she blacked out. The sea must have got bored of her, and washed her up on the beach, because she was less lifeless than a rag doll.

After thinking about it for a moment, she decided against sitting up, because all it would do was make her head spin and her whole body ache. So instead she just lay there breathing in her own acidic fumes. Some more vomit dribbled out her mouth as she hiccupped. She winced. That single hiccup had jolted her _whole _body, and now all the pains and aches had worsened beyond bare. She black out again.

…

Strange shadows passed over her eyes. Her hair must have fallen off her face, because the sun was blazing directly on her eyelids, although it was strange; she couldn't feel the sun's warmth. The shadows stopped moving. She grimaced. _What was it? _She sighed. And then her stomach growled. She jumped and sat abruptly upright at the sound of laughter. _Ouch! _ Bad move. She felt herself falling into darkness again, but something stopped her from falling backwards and hitting the ground, which would have been another painful experience. The barricade slowly lowered her down, and gently removed itself from underneath her. She tried to figure out what it was. It had been long with a slight bend halfway through, slightly soft and warm, _very _warm. She decided to open her eyes finally to investigate.

Light roared into her eyes, blinding her at first, but as she slowly adjusted, she saw she was surrounded by whiteness, with bright glowing light everywhere. Her vision hadn't cleared completely, but she closed her eyes again. She wiped away sleep from the corners of her eyes. She thought she knew where she was already without a proper look. If she was right about where she was, she wasn't happy.

"Scout?" A longing voice entered Scout's ears. "Scout, can you hear me this time?" _No! _Thought Scout weakly, _No I can't her you! _She felt tears pushing against her eyes lids, forcing them to open slightly. As she did so, she saw a face she thought she'd never see again. Her tears rapidly turned from tears of despair to tears of joy!

"Callum!" Scout croaked. It took a while for Callum's face to fizz into focus. Her head pounded, and her eyelids felt heavy. She reached up a swaying and aching arm to touch his face. It was hard to reach it, because the whole room seemed to sway. Finally she saw her hand make contact, but couldn't feel that she was touching his face. Overwhelmed by this news, she burst out crying. "I can't feel you!" She sobbed. She then started blabbering random words about spirits, touch, senses and death. Meanwhile Callum's face had erupted with concern and pity.

"No!" He hushed, reaching out and stroking her face, wiping away her tears. "You cut the ends of your fingers somehow, so they're still healing. That's why you can't feel me." He was grinning now, laughing at her misunderstanding.

It took Scout a while to pull herself together and realize that she wasn't in the place she thought she was, but a hospital bed. She raised her head slightly, which increased the throbbing. She tried to ignore it, as she looked at herself neatly tucked in under a cheap looking hospital sheet, she lifted it up, to see and display of bandages wrapped around different parts of her body. She tried to push herself upright, but an instant pain spiralled through her rip cage. Callum was by her side immediately, carefully helping her sit up right. It felt good having his strong arms around her; it reminded her of the first time they'd ever met. He had put his small shivering arms around her to comfort her, and she had felt safe, just like she did now.

She looked around to see where the bright light was coming from, and she saw that the windows in the room where letting sunlight stream in freely, although there were candle sticks scattered around the room for in case the sun hid or weakened for too long. Looking at the bright light made Scout's head pulse more.

"Why do I feel so dizzy?" She asked in a rasping voice. Talking used up a lot of energy.

"That's probably the drugs. You've been on them for four days now. They keeping you asleep and also minimize the pain of your ribs and cuts healing." Callum replied gently. Scout could only nod in acknowledgment. She reached up with her hand to twiddle her hair, but she couldn't find it. Realizing what she was doing, since he'd seen her do it many a times before, Callum explained that the doctors had cut off her hair, to reach the cut and bruises.

This enraged Scout. They had had no right to do that! It was her body, and she was in control. The drugs also annoyed her. What if she had wanted to feel the pain? She always said she'd enjoyed it. Her anger was interrupted by Callum's laughter.

"I never thought I would say something like this, but I'm so glad you threw up." He smiled at her. She replied with a questioning look.

"You vomited, on the beach. That's how a realized you were alive. I thought you were… At the time I was too upset by the thought that I'd lost you, I completely forgot to check your heart beat." He told her embarrassed.

"You idiot." She snarled. But then it occurred to her, Callum had been on the beach with her? He had come looking for her? She was about to ask him more, when she realized the hurt look in his eye and he said:

"Thanks. But I remember now, I did check for your heart beat, only to remember you don't have one because you're heartless and cruel." That comment hurt Scout a lot. "So I tried to save you in a storm, cut open my foot, risked my life, and ran away from Dad, only to be called an idiot? Thanks Scout. My foot injury is going to keep me out of rugby for a long time, and it's nearly the end of the season! To think I thought it would be worth it, because I had you back, safe and sound." The last of his words lost their coldness, and were replaced with sadness. He grabbed what looked like a walking stick, and hobble off, to where, Scout didn't know.

The instant he was out of sight, fresh hot tears streamed down her face.


End file.
